Illustrator Insight with Bruno Valasse

Bruno Valasse's debut author-illustrated picture book Shine has just published with Tundra Books. We asked Bruno if he could tell us a bit about how the story came to life and delve into his printmaking process...

Early character development for The Moth

Shine‘s original title was The Moth. Yes, very descriptive and obvious! There were different ways to kickstart an authored-illustrated project whilst thinking about what this project could turn into. I tend to plan things, make lists and narrow down tasks to be done, but this wasn’t working to develop stories that excited me. The key moment for the book to move forward came when I focused on making. 

Character development and colour research for The Moth

​This was back in 2021 – while I was studying the Children’s Books Illustration program at Anglia Ruskin University – and as Covid lockdowns started being lifted and restrictions were implemented. I started spending most days in the print room, getting away from desk and screens, and started to think with my hands. I fell in love with linocut, risograph and screenprinting. I’d tried these techniques before, but never as a tool for exploration and experimentation, and it made me realise how making – and the hours put in it – sparks and develops ideas. Making before thinking. Or thinking through making.

Initial linocut experiments for The Moth

Some moth characters emerged out of pure interest in them and as I cut the linoleum, prepared tracing-paper originals to be printed on the risograph machine and cleaned screens. All that time spent in the print room working and chatting with people, as well as receiving feedback from peers also had a huge impact on the project.

Initial risograph experiments

Some childhood memories had been disentangling themselves in the back of my head, as I also started reading folktales and fables about moths. It turns out there has been a long-lasting relationship between humans and moths, from munching on our wool jumpers to entering our language in the form of proverbs and poetry. ‘Like a moth to a flame’, does it ring a bell? Well, moths would end up burnt for being attracted and getting too close to the fire, but they survive nowadays because most of our lights are artificial and harmless. This turned out to be fertile ground for ideas and metaphors. 

I also remembered going back home at night in Mexico city, climbing up two flights of stairs from which you could see the sky, most often overcast. Sometimes, especially after heavy rain, I would be mesmerised by the sight of stars in that same, usually greyish sky. And I was also terrified to think that I could be lifted up from the ground, closer to those stars, and I would never be able to come back down. That memory felt vivid and relevant at a time when everyone was scared and the world had been turned upside down in a split second.

The print below was the key to combining my own attraction to stars with a mischievous moth: what if the kid in the story was a moth who is afraid of the dark and its dangers? That was the first exciting story idea in the process of making Shine.

Initial screenprints, exploring characters and atmosphere through the overlap of 3 colours, texture and tone

​I am really drawn to characters whose traits play a part in their story, may be a paradox and even help solve it. Tomi Ungerer’s bats, snakes and flying kangaroos, all have a characteristic that makes them repulsive or unappreciated by most. But those same traits become useful in solving an issue in the story and for other characters to end up accepting them. Ungerer’s Adelaide –my favourite book as a kid– tells the story of a strange, winged kangaroo who’s an oddity in her community as well as in the one she migrates to: modern day Paris. She proves her worth when saving some children from a fire thanks to her ability to fly, the same trait that had her being suspect when going through customs.

'Adelaide: The Flying Kangaroo' by Tomi Ungerer

The moth in Shine is paradoxically afraid of the dark, as moths usually come out during nighttime – although they stay close to lights and fires. I wanted to tell a story about fear that could solve issues of loneliness, isolation and community, but also identity and courage. I now have a permanent sticky note on the wall with acronyms, two of which are WDIWTS – what do I want to say – and SDT – show, don’t tell – to remind myself that my words need to steer away from the obvious, and have some counterpoint. The interplay between text & image, both telling different elements of the story and being potentially contradictory. 

The physical existence of those notes – and sketchbook material – helps me keep in mind those things that matter to me, as I feel I can get lost in the process and steer away from the ideas, feelings and elements that I wanted to use in the first place. These notes help me remember the origin of the story and it’s a way for my past self to insist on what needs to be kept through every revision and turn the project may take.

Some tracing paper layers and overlay of inks, which helped me define tones to hide or reveal elements in the sequence of the story

The image below is an example of a road I did not take but helped me figure out what I wanted the end of the story to be: the finding of a community, a safe haven and the discovery of what made the moth start the journey. Oneself’s inner light:

Digital overlay of layers for process image that I ended up not printing but was key in defining the end of ​the story

I find making artwork while developing the story lifts some of the pressure of coming up with a fully formed narrative from the outset. Below are tiny roughs for an initial storyboard, in which a caterpillar would grow and find the courage to turn into a moth. The story drifted away from that initial version quite a bit!

Initial storyboard roughs

Once I was happy with the story, I was set to screenprint Shine in a concertina format, with 13 spread panels on each side including covers. That meant I would have to print 2 full sheets of paper on both sides and align 3 colours each time. That equals 12 pulls of a squeegee per book.

​I went back to risographs to get a – vague – idea of how the screenprints could turn out, and define the colours I could use.

Risograph details, using fluo pink, teal green and golden yellow

Original layers planned for risographs, prior to adapting them for screenprinting & prints drying

Here comes a fairly technical bit! The main issue when adapting the layers I had made for riso into layers I could use for screen-printing were the marks and textures. The riso machine can record and reproduce pencil marks quite easily, but screen-printing is a high contrast technique. That means your layers are turned into white and black areas, no greys. 

Screen-printing proofs and happy accidents...

While trying to figure out how those layers would translate onto the screen, I went to print some cheap tests and on one of them the printer used a setting that created a fine halftone – like the little dots out of which images are made in black and white newspapers. The issue of preserving my marks was potentially solved: the more cluttered the dots, the darker the area. That halftone worked perfectly with the mesh on the screens I had access to, otherwise I could have gotten a moiré effect – like when you look at a pattern on a screen – or a total mess.

Once that was sorted, I printed a limited edition of 25 concertina books, one of which was on display at Candid Arts in London, for our graduation show. They then went on to be on displayed at the Children’s Books Fair in Bologna.

Details on which you can see the halftone

And that is the story of Shine. A vivid childhood memory that sat alongside a drawing of a mischievous moth on a sketchbook page, and gave me the urge to share how all of that felt like.

Shine has now been published by Tundra Books in English, and will be out in French with La Pastèque in the autumn.

Limited edition of 25 screenprinted concertina books